Blind Fate
by ShutUpAndPull
Summary: Based upon a found Tumblr prompt: "AU – Castle and Beckett are both set up on blind dates at the same restaurant, but their dates don't show and they start talking and hitting it off."
1. Chapter 1

**Blind Fate**

Lanie pursed her lips and crooked her neck sharply to the left, not in the way an adorable puppy did when it found curious a sound its owner was making, but rather in the way a frustrated medical examiner did when she was sick and tired of hearing the same old excuses from her stubborn best friend.

Kate never had a whole laundry list of excuses at the ready. She was fine offering the usual _I have to work late._ or _Remember how bad it was last time?_ because either usually achieved the desired outcome: Lanie would huff and puff and swear she'd never offer to set her up again. For Kate, that was a win.

"What the hell's your reason this time? And don't you dare use that working late crap on me again, Kate Beckett. You have those two monkeys over there that'll do whatever you tell 'em, including cover for your skinny _be_ hind on a Friday night." Lanie moved around her now-empty autopsy table, clearing small metal tools of her trade as she went. "I swear," she snipped, pointing a handful of sharp thingamabobs in Kate's direction, "you're some kind of cruel, selfish woman. You know that?"

Kate bit at her lip, held back the giggle bubbling just under the surface. She thanked heaven above daily for bringing Lanie into her life. She truly had no idea what she'd do without her.

"Cruel, huh? And selfish. How do you figure that? Just because I won't go on some stupid blind date with a guy I'll never end up with anyway?" She pulled a nearby stool toward her and sat as the ME continued to flutter about.

"First of all, you need to stop your whining. You don't have any idea what could happen or who you might end up with. And number two, when was the last time you took a _good_ look in a mirror, girl?"

Kate's blank stare of confusion kicked Lanie into overdrive, sending her across the room to swipe something from another station. "Here, look, what do you see?" she snapped impatiently, as though nothing she'd just said should've been unclear. She held the tray's semi-reflective surface just inches from Kate's face.

"What do I see? I see _me_ , Lanie, bored with this conversation." She grabbed for the tray, but Lanie wouldn't surrender it. "Maybe you should just tell me what I'm supposed to see so I can get the hell out of here and go home."

"Oh, you're such a royal pain in my- what I see is a cruel and selfish woman, depriving mankind of those tasty genes of yours. I mean, can you imagine the perfect babies you'd make?"

Kate's mouth fell open. That was a new one. "Oh, I see. So now it's, like, some medical thing? You want to set me up so I can populate the planet with baby Becketts? That's kind of gross, though I can't think of how to articulate exactly why at the moment- something about pimping me for DNA or, I don't even know."

Lanie turned and dropped the tray onto the desk beside them. "Fine. So sue me for trying to find you happiness. And make the world a more beautiful place."

"Lan-"

"And get you laid."

"This conversation just gets more and more charming as it goes." Kate shook her head, her face now wearing its own version of disapproval.

"Fine, look, this is it, Kate. I mean it. One last time and then I'm out, for good."

Kate eyed her with suspicion. How many times had they played this game before?

"Seriously, Detective Stuck-In-the-Mud, you say yes now, you never have to say no again because I'll never, ever ask." Lanie pushed her hand forward, waiting for her to acquiesce. She knew well Kate could never pass up a deal like that.

"Talk about a royal pain in my a-"

"Easy, girl," Lanie jumped in. "You may be taller than me and wear a gun, but I could snap that girly bod of yours like a twig." She extended her hand even farther. "Tell me we have a deal. Tell me like I don't already know it."

Kate rolled her eyes in classic Kate fashion. "Fine. Yes, Lanie, we have a deal, okay. _One_ last time and that's it. I'll go on _one_ date." The two shook on it and Lanie did a mini-victory dance. "Who is it this time?"

"Detective, you just keep your phone on and start thinkin' about the future. And when it comes time for the thank you gift, just remember how much I love a good day spa and expensive wine."

"Yeah, right, like that'll ever happen."

But the thing was, Kate was already thinking about the future. She was just hoping it would only involve a good book and a hot bath.

 **xxxx**

Rick shuffled into the loft and tossed his keys onto the breakfast bar, his eyes never meeting those of his mother who was curled up on the sofa along the way. She watched as he passed, his head hung low, his hands buried in his pockets, his mood worn like a flashing neon sign without need of commentary. She knew where he'd been and with whom. It was always something with that one.

Rick wasted little time in pulling open the refrigerator for a bit of liquid relief. Scotch would've taken too long, involved too many steps, and he was long beyond ready. The beer's metal cap twisted off with ease, no match for his already capable hands now infused with the added might of frustration, and he snapped it into the sink across the way in form that would've surely impressed any fraternity boy circa 1992. He swallowed down half the bottle in a breath, the bubbles delivering just the right burn for the occasion, the resulting belch both impressive and repulsive.

"That's my boy!" Martha called out in a roar of sarcastic motherly pride.

"Jesus, Mother, I didn't even see you there!" If he'd already taken his next sip, he surely would've painted the kitchen with it. "Sorry, I'm-"

"Let me guess," she said, rising from the sofa and making her way toward the kitchen, "things didn't go well with Gina, hmm? I swear that woman is nothing but a menace in a McCartney suit."

Rick set the bottle down on the counter and leaned his outstretched arms against the edge of the cold concrete. His mother was absolutely right. Working with his ex-wife was like trying to stand still in the middle of a hurricane- nearly impossible and laughably stupid.

"Oh, she was in fine form today, Mother. You should've seen her. You'll be tickled to know that I now have a date on Friday night." He downed another generous sip from the bottle. "I know how anxious you always are for me to find a woman to be the next ex-Mrs. Richard Castle."

Martha smacked him on the arm and snatched the beer from his hand, helping herself to a sip before setting it back down out of his reach. "Oh, don't be ridiculous, Richard. The only _ex_ I'm anxious for is an _ex_ planation into this pouting of yours. Come. Sit." She tugged on his arm and forced him onto a stool at the bar. "Spill it, kiddo. What did Gina do this time? And what's all this about a date?"

"She just- she always thinks I owe her because I'm late with my deadlines." Martha's that-actually-makes-some-sense-darling expression gave him no pause whatsoever. "I go over there, I tell her she'll have the pages in a few days, she yells at me, and then she gets me to agree to some blind date on Friday night as some kind of payback. I mean, can you believe her?" He lifted off the stool and reached over the counter for his beer, chugging what was left as though he'd just crossed the Sahara without water.

" _Her_ , darling? Can I believe _her_?" Martha threw up her arms, the sleeves of her satin robe dancing wildly with the motion. "Honestly, have you ever said no to that woman? And how in the world did things go from a deadline meeting to a dating service?"

Rick pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and checked it for messages, expecting the number of his Friday companion from Gina at some point before day's end. There was nothing from her yet, and he slid the phone aside with hopes it might never come- wishful thinking, he knew.

It wasn't that he didn't want to date, to have fun, to enjoy the parade of beautiful women that came along with his success as a famous novelist. He did want that. He had that. He was good at that. But they all felt the same to him now, all the women in the Richard Castle parade. They all dressed the same, talked the same, looked the same. And he already spent his days with his novels' leading man, Derrick Storm- all day, every day, in his head, on the page. He was so damn tired of _same_.

"Your tone, Mother, suggests you think this is _my_ fault somehow? The woman practically blackmailed me to go on this date. I mean, she doesn't even know this woman- some niece of her boss or boss of her niece in the city for the weekend from God knows where. I don't even remember. It's just- it's not right," he huffed adolescently.

Martha reached out and set her hand on top of his. "Well, I'm sorry, darling, if it seemed as though I was suggesting this was your fault."

Rick nodded a silent thank you for the apology.

"No, no, I meant to state it quite clearly."

" _What_? Mother, that's-"

"Oh, stop it, Richard," she chided, sliding off her stool. "You missed your deadline- or dead _lines_ , as it were- and Gina found a way to exploit that for her benefit." She turned and moved toward the refrigerator. "I haven't said it often, but brava to her. Business is business, kid. Tit for tat." She pulled out another beer and twisted off the cap. "Next time, maybe you'll do what it is you're supposed to do when you're supposed to do it, hmm? Take a page from that diligent daughter of yours. Or maybe just grow a pair and learn to say no."

Rick's mouth hung open in exaggerated disbelief. "Yeah, thanks a lot, Mother. Your suggestions are most helpful, as always."

She put the beer bottle down and pushed it along the counter toward him. "Drink up, kiddo. Sounds like you might need it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Kate almost never ever did this, and the fact that she kept reminding herself of that not-inconsequential fact certainly wasn't helping any. She definitely didn't have time to date. She was a homicide detective for crying out loud- in the NYPD, no less- and there were _a lot_ of murders in New York. A lot. She worked late. She worked weekends. And didn't most dates happen late and on weekends? Though she was long out of practice, she was fairly sure they did. No, she absolutely did _not_ have time to date.

But she'd told Lanie she did. Sort of. Maybe. In some kind of I-just-want-to-go-home haze, she'd agreed to something, and whatever their conversation had been, it'd ended with her best friend screeching with glee and promising a phone call from a man, soon. Unfortunately, more often than not, when Kate's phone rang, it wasn't because something good was happening, and she already bleakly assumed this date would end up falling comfortably into that here-we-go-again category.

All day long Kate kept watch over her damn phone, not because it was chirping or buzzing or making any number of the other obnoxious sounds it was prone to make throughout the course of a day, but because she knew it might come at any moment: the call - from a man - about a date. A blind date, to be more specific. The kind of date where you didn't know the guy before you agreed to put on a skirt and eye shadow and you secretly dropped pepper spray into your clutch because he could turn out to be a serial killer. Surely a homicide detective should know better than to get involved in any of it. She really hoped Lanie ran some kind of background check.

"Watching it like that ain't gonna make it ring, ya know." Espo stood beside Kate's desk with a stack of paperwork and a grin. "Must be some important call. You've been staring at that thing all day."

"I have _not_ , Javi," she snapped, her overly-defensive tone proving entirely the contrary.

"Whatever you say," he conceded, without conceding at all. "You wanna go over this stuff or what? Ryan's following up with the phone company."

"Yeah, let's see it," she agreed, unconvincingly.

What she really wanted was the stupid phone to ring so she could set the date up and move on with the rest of her day. In a desperate attempt at willing it so, she looked down and stared fixatedly at it like it was some perp across her interrogation room table. But desperate it was. And futile. A watched phone never rang, everyone knew. She pushed it aside with a clench of her jaw and stepped up to the Murder Board with Espo, consumed by thoughts of how best to kill Lanie and get away with it.

 **xxxx**

"Detective, where are we with Rollins?" Montgomery stood within the frame of his office's open door and called across the bullpen to a case file-engrossed Kate. She hadn't looked up from the pile of papers on her desk for an eternity, her captain's voice registering as little more than white noise in the buzzing room around her.

Their current case had her tied in knots of frustration. Two whole days without a lead that offered anything more than a dead end. Her team was better than this. _She_ was better than this. And then this Lanie business on top of it. Planning a date in the middle of a case wasn't wise or helpful- or good for the skin, apparently. Kate swore she could feel a pimple coming on.

"It's just that good, huh? Can't put it down?" Montgomery watched with amusement as Kate jumped in her chair with surprise.

"Sir?" Her brain was busy processing too many thoughts at once to come up with anything but a single word response.

"You've been sitting here for hours with your head buried in these files, Detective. Tell me we've got something on Rollins. 1PP wants to nail this son of a bitch, and so do I."

Two whole days without a lead. Kate hated waiting, hated that her boss had to ask her where they were with a case because she hadn't given him anything, hated the word _unsolved_ because it reminded her of the biggest failure of her life.

She briefly met Montgomery's eyes, but turned back to the files almost immediately. "I know it's in here, sir. Ryan's been going through everything the phone company sent over. I just- I feel like we're close to something." But the truth was she didn't really feel it at all. She _wanted_ to feel it. Like she wanted to feel excited about the date. But it was after 4pm and he, whatever his name was, still hadn't called. Probably best anyway.

"I hope you're right, Detective. Update me before you leave."

"Yes, sir."

Montgomery wasn't ten steps away when Kate's phone rang, and her reaction to it caught her most off guard. Her heart rate elevated and her breath quickened almost instantly, as though she felt some actual excitement. But that couldn't be because the date was definitely a mistake- no time, the case, not very good at this. Except, maybe.

But it was all for nothing, which hit her like a speeding train when she actually picked up her phone and realized it was Lanie calling. "Yes, Dr. Parish?"

"Oooo, bad day? You only call me that when you're pissed off about something."

Lanie knew her better than most people ever could or would. "Sorry. It's just this friggin' case. What's up?"

"You better watch that mouth, girl. That shit is not appropriate for a lady." Because she knew her better than most people, she could always make Kate laugh. "Now tell me what Josh said. When is his hot bod pickin' up your hot bod?"

Kate's eyes darted around the bullpen, wondering foolishly if anyone else had heard, but everyone milling about continued to mill about, entirely unaware, utterly without care. "He hasn't called yet, Lanie." The moment she said it, she wondered if she sounded disappointed. That wasn't…she wasn't…

"Damn, really?" Lanie was clearly the disappointed one. "Well, the hospital's an insane place to work. He'll call."

Josh from the hospital. Huh, maybe that didn't sound so bad.

 **xxxx**

Kate briefed Montgomery on the very tiny morsel of additional information they'd been able to gather from Rollins' phone records and she marched out of his office toward her desk in a huff. She yanked her jacket from the back of her chair and hollered to Espo that she was leaving for the night. He returned a _yeah_ on his way to the break room for another coffee. His tone matched her mood.

Another day was over. Another day without their suspect in custody. Another day of we-know-it's-him-but-can't-prove-it. Those were some of the worst days. And as Kate stepped out of the precinct and onto the sidewalk, she paused and angled her head toward the sky, her eyes closed, her breaths deliberate, as pedestrians paraded past her. After a long, still moment, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket and she reached for it, the number displayed one she didn't recognize.

"Beckett," she answered, a habit not easily broken simply by the completion of her working hours. The city was rowdy around her, and she could barely hear the voice on the other end.

"Kate?"

"This is Kate," she yelled more than said.

"Hi, this is Josh. I'm Lanie's friend. She told you I'd be calling?"

 _She did, yes, and I stared at my phone all day long like an insane person._

"Hi, Josh. She did, yes. I'm glad you called." In that moment, that was more a lie than not.

"So, I'm told we'd be fools not to try this whole setup thing." The longer than expected pause that followed made him wonder. "Kate? Are you still there? It's really-"

"Sorry, Josh, I'm out on the sidewalk so it's really loud. Hang on a sec." She waited for a break in the foot traffic around her and stepped back toward the precinct to try and find some quiet. She was practically screaming. That usually came at the end of a relationship, not at the beginning.

She pulled open the door and ducked back into the lobby. "I'm sorry about that. I was just leaving work when you called." She caught herself fussing with her hair and pulling unwelcome bits of lint from her jacket as she spoke- primping, she was primping for a phone call. How ridiculous, she thought, as she glanced over her shoulder at the desk sergeant, who, as it turned out, couldn't have cared less what she was doing or why. "So-"

"Right, yes, so," Josh jumped back in, "as I was saying before New York so rudely interrupted, I'm game for taking the plunge if you are. I mean, if you're as wonderful as I've heard, this could be the one time a blind date actually works out."

His voice was undeniably sexy. She had to give him that. And he did express a bit of hope. That was a plus. Her job didn't allow for much of that. "Well, those rumors are all true, of course," she replied playfully, almost proud she'd found a way to summon wit in the face of all the awkward she was feeling. "I suppose we could try it and see what happens." It wasn't an overly anxious or enthusiastic concession. In other words, it was perfect.

"Great, great. How about Friday night? My last surgery's scheduled for early afternoon. I'd love to take you out for a nice dinner. Maybe some late jazz?"

She hated how good that sounded, hated that she found herself suddenly swept up in a voice and a Friday and a trumpet. She'd railed against the entire idea since she'd agreed to it. But here she was, pacing the lobby of her precinct, twisting her hair around her finger and enjoying the thought. "That sounds nice, yeah. Um, my schedule's a bit less nailed down than yours, though, because I'm right in the middle of a case. It might be better if I just meet you somewhere, if that's okay."

"Of course, absolutely. A detective's work is never done, right? Well, sadly, but, right?"

"Yes, you're right," Kate giggled. She _giggled_? Oh, this was taking a bad turn.

"Okay, well, why don't we plan on 8PM and see what happens. Do you enjoy seafood?"

"I do, very much."

"Great. Meet me at Le Bernardin on West 51st at 8PM. I'll reserve us a table under my name, Josh Davidson."

Kate smiled. A nice name to go along with a nice voice. "It's a date. I'll see you there on Friday night."

"I look forward to it, Kate. Enjoy the rest of your week and good luck with your case. Goodnight."

"You too, Josh, thanks. Goodnight."

She made her way to the door and pushed out onto the sidewalk again. She wanted to call Lanie right away, but Dr. Josh Davidson: Surgeon and his stirring voice practically demanded a Google search. She was a homicide detective, after all, and she had little time to be wasting picking out a skirt and eye shadow if he turned out to have some secret rap sheet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Rick wrote through the morning and into the afternoon, the words pouring out of him like they hadn't in weeks. Alexis had woken him before she'd headed off to school, his thank you nothing but a groan of displeasure in realizing the day was upon him: Friday, blind date day. He was still stewing over the whole thing- over his ex-wife's shameless blackmail orchestrated for her own benefit, over his own cowardly inability to refuse to take part, over the fact that had he been able to type all of that day's words onto the damn page a week ago as he was supposed to, he wouldn't be forced to don a tie in a few hours for Missee. Yes, that was Missee with two [e]s. She'd spelled it out for him. Seriously.

But clearly the frustration and irritation he felt worked as grease in his creative wheels. The closer Rick got to his unwanted date, the more productive he became. Derrick Storm was in fine ass-kicking form all day leaving no evil plot uncovered, no clue undiscovered, no fight unfinished. Maybe that was Gina's plan all along. Maybe she just knew him that well, knew how he'd react, knew he'd sit and sulk in front of his laptop, taking out his resentment on the innocent letters of his keyboard- once again, to her benefit.

He found it sort of amusing, actually. They'd divorced because it seemed they didn't know each other at all. Gina: one. Rick: zero.

He emailed the pages to her just before 4PM with a "Hope you're happy" sign-off, the sarcasm buzzing on the page like a giant neon sign. His phone rang not three minutes later, her voice buttery with self-satisfaction.

"Good boy, Richard," she taunted. "I'd tell you I knew you could do it, but I doubt it'd sound convincing."

He gritted his teeth and slapped his laptop shut. "You know, I always love these little chats of ours, Gina. Is there anything else? I'm sure your broomstick must be waiting for you out front."

She exhaled a laugh and it ran through him like nails on a chalkboard. "Careful, Richard, you turn on charm that thick tonight and you might make a love connection, and I know how much you hate actual feelings."

"Oh, come on, Gina, you know that's not true. I'm feeling a whole laundry list of things about you at the moment. Would you like to hear some of them? Because I can-"

"Just make sure you show her a good time tonight, Richard," she interrupted sternly. "It's important for my career. And you owe me."

Rick had no idea at all what she meant by that, but in the interest of saving the remainder of his sanity for later that evening when he knew he'd probably need it, he let it pass. He owed her nothing. Surely his exorbitant alimony checks more than covered it.

"Where are you taking her?"

"If you must know, we're meeting at Le Bernardin. She's a pescetarian. Imagine that." He shook his head. Gina never made anything easy. "And before you ask, yes, we're _meeting_ there because she has a reading at 7PM and she didn't want to go all the way back across town to her father's penthouse afterward. I was scared to ask what a reading was, so I didn't."

"Well, send Eric my best, please. You know how much I adore his langoustine."

Her voice softened, as did his. "I will." Le Bernardin was a dining fixture during their marriage. Times weren't all bad.

"And whatever you do," she barked, her severe tone once again in place, "don't sleep with her, Richard."

"I'm hanging up now, _Mom_."

He pressed the button on his phone and abruptly ended the call, his head suddenly beginning to pound. With his fingers pressed against his eyelids, he leaned back in his chair, the first time he'd done so in hours, and the muscles of his back immediately thanked him for it.

"Are you fighting with Gram?"

The soft voice jolted him upright so quickly, he almost tumbled over with the chair. He had no idea he wasn't alone.

"Alexis, hey. When did you get home? I didn't hear you come in." He didn't know why, but he'd asked as though he'd been caught red handed at something.

"I just got here. Did you just hang up on Gram?"

Clearly she'd overheard the end of his conversation. "Oh, no, sweetie. That was just Gina. It was-it's-" He closed his eyes firmly, wished away the ache. "Don't worry about it. It's not important. How was your day?"

Alexis dropped into one of the leather chairs across the way. "Better than yours, I guess. You don't look any better than you did when I woke you up this morning. You haven't even changed your clothes."

Rick looked down at his open robe and wrinkled tee. He was the actual visual manifestation of his mood. "No, I guess I didn't. I, uh, I ended up writing all day, surprisingly." It made him warm with pride for a moment. He'd written- and written well- for hours without doubt or boredom and it felt good, the more he let it sink in.

"That's great, Dad. Hopefully it'll keep Gina off your back for a while."

 _Yeah, right_.

"I hope so too, sweetie. Thanks."

Alexis pushed herself from the chair and straightened out her uniform skirt. "Well, I'm going to go upstairs and start my homework. You have that blind date tonight, right?"

 _Don't remind me._

His daughter was doing homework on a Friday afternoon. He admired no one more. "I do, yeah. I'm meeting her in a few hours," he told her with no discernible hint of excitement whatsoever.

"Okay, well, if you need help deciding what to wear, let me know. Just, whatever you do, make sure it's not that blue tie. That thing looks like something Gram would wear."

Rick chuckled. He hadn't considered wearing it, but now he was, especially if it repelled other women as it did his daughter. "I'll call you down in a bit, sweetie. I'm sure I'll need your expertise, as always."

Alexis smiled and was gone.

Only three hours and forty-eight minutes of freedom to go.

 **xxxx**

"Girl, you look hot!" Lanie looked Kate up and down as she walked proudly in a circle around her. "If I was a fine, fine man, I'd be all over that."

Kate looked at her best friend with an expression of semi-horror. That was the last thing she wanted to convey to Josh the Stranger tonight. "Lanie, please," she sighed, begging only with her eyes for a serious opinion- one that didn't spark images of her having to pull out her pepper spray to defend herself by the end of the evening.

"Kate," Lanie replied, in the tone she understood her favorite detective needed, "you look great. Really."

She felt kind of great, actually. Kate could barely remember the last time she put on a dress that wasn't a part of some undercover sting, and that didn't even really count. It was a uniform then, work. She'd tried on three others before Lanie told her this was the one. Thankfully she did. It was probably the last one in her closet.

It was charcoal grey, soft, short- the kind of short that inspired just the right amount of imagination and highlighted just the right amount of leg. It made the green in her eyes pop and her posture enviable, and, most of all, it made her feel like the woman she knew she was- the one who spent the majority of her days hidden beneath the shield of the NYPD.

The corners of Kate's mouth turned up just enough to be called a smile. "Thanks for your help, Lanie. Thanks for being here."

"Are you serious? Please. There isn't anywhere I'd rather be." She reached for Kate and pulled her in for a hug. "Now, where's your purse. I want to make sure you have condoms. Safety first, young lady."

"Lanie! Get-" Kate pushed her away. "No one's going to need condoms tonight. This is a _dinner_ date. I don't even know this guy."

"Mmm, but wait until you see him. Oh, girl, he could be one delicious dessert after this _dinner_ of yours."

Kate said nothing because her look said it all for her.

"Fine, fine. You're no fun, Detective Stuck-In-the-Mud. You go and have your fancy lobster or whatever and I'll just wait for the juicy stories about how nice the silverware was." She headed for the door without looking back.

"I love you, ya know."

"You too! Call me later. Don't care what time," Lanie hollered, raising her hand in a wave before the door clicked shut behind her.

Kate hoped she'd still feel the same in a few hours when all of this was over.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Kate actually felt grateful when her taxi pulled up to the restaurant and she was once again able to stand firmly on solid ground. Her calf muscle twitched as it settled, a thank you, no doubt, for its relief from the incessant bounce Kate's nerves had subjected it to the entire ride over.

She stood for a moment in the evening air of late spring, as other couples walked past on their way in and out of love, and she thought of her father. He told her nearly every time he saw her how much she deserved happiness in her life, how life's unpredictability wasn't always cruel, how taking a chance was what filled his world with love. She wanted to believe his words, wanted to believe she was capable of welcoming such joy, and as she turned to pull open the restaurant's door, she made the decision to keep her mind open to that Friday night as well.

There was a palpable buzz inside, the freedom of weekend alive in every corner. Kate arrived early for their reservation- not I-can't-wait-for-this-date-to-begin early, but rather the-cabbie-drove-like-a-maniac early- and none of the well-dressed few around her stood alone. But she was a cop, and a thorough one at that, so she stepped up to the maître d' and inquired as to her date's arrival.

"I'm sorry, Ms…"

"Beckett," she replied emphatically. Her name was certain. She was very fond of certain.

"Yes, Ms. Beckett. I'm sorry, but your party hasn't arrived as yet. Would you care to take a seat in the lounge until Mr. Davidson arrives?"

Kate had little desire to stand self-consciously in wait, wondering with every pull of the door if the stranger coming through belonged to her. She agreed to the temporary detour, though suddenly nervous as to the level of cooperation she'd get from her restless leg if she sat down again, and was escorted to the lounge. She settled onto the soft leather of one of the high chairs at the bar next to a group of boisterous young women with pink cocktails, took a peek at the time on her phone, and ordered herself a Manhattan.

Surely twenty minutes would fly right by.

 **xxxx**

Despite his daughter's admonition, Rick almost decided to go with the blue tie. He kind of liked it, truth be told, and he'd paid a decent sum for it years back, enough to act as incentive for him to keep it hanging with his others. He knew it was probably a big strike against that his mother always liked it, but her taste in fashion wasn't entirely without merit. Not _entirely_.

He stepped out of the taxi in front of the restaurant and pulled his charcoal grey tie back into place against the pristine white of his shirt, the evening breeze having lifted it whimsically from his chest. The grey was much more suited to his mood than the blue, it turned out, and Alexis had given it her seal of approval, which, from a teenager, was no small thing.

Glancing at his watch, he sighed audibly in objection to his own early arrival. Maybe his date's reading had finished early, he thought, though he still had no frame of reference as to what exactly that referred to. Maybe she was already inside. Maybe this could all end early and he could still find a way to salvage the evening. Before he knew it, he was through the front door with a spring of desperate hope alive in his step.

He glanced around the entryway as he made his way toward the maître d', but there was no one resembling any kind of Missee with two [e]s in sight. Plan B was booze, which suited him just fine. One drink surely wasn't going to hurt any. In fact, he thought it might actually help, if past experience was any indicator.

"Gilles, my friend, it's great to see you again. It's been too long." Rick reached for the dark-suited man's hand with amiable enthusiasm.

"Ah, Mr. Castle, I was most pleased to see your name on our guest list for the evening. It's been too long, indeed." He smiled warmly and continued. "You're a bit early, though, Mr. Castle. Is your party with you?"

"I am, Gilles, yes. I thought I might enjoy one of your famous cocktails in the lounge while I await my date for the evening. Would that be alright?"

He stepped out from behind his station and nodded at Rick. "I'll escort you myself, Mr. Castle."

Gilles led him into the lounge and assured him he'd be informed as soon as his date arrived.

Rick pulled a clip of cash from his pocket and handed his guide a bill. "Give me a few extra minutes, Gilles, and there's another in it for you." He winked and laughed.

Gilles laughed as well, having no idea just how serious Rick actually was.

 **xxxx**

Kate looked down at her glass and realized it was already half empty. It surprised her for a moment until the group of girls next to her erupted in simultaneous cackle. The Case of the Quickly Vanishing Alcohol was solved very quickly, then- yet another Detective Beckett success story. In that moment, she would've taken any date at all over her neighbors at the bar. She couldn't help but wonder if the local T.G.I. Friday's was closed.

Rick pulled back a leather chair near hers, one empty seat separating the two, and grabbed the attention of the evening's bartender, whom he didn't recognize. "I'd like a Manhattan please, my good man." He dropped into the chair and took in his surroundings, as was his custom as a writer and, consequently, an observer.

Kate overheard his request but never turned her head, choosing only to reward herself with a mental high-five for ordering what seemed to be the restaurant's popular drink. Josh was due in a few minutes, as per her phone, which she pulled out to check not for a message from him, but rather from Espo or Ryan who were probably still at the precinct working on her case. She envied them. She had no messages.

She heard it, then, as she slid her phone back into her clutch- the whispers and the giggles. The trio next to her was at it again, two of them pushing the third towards her saying _Go! Do it!_ She had no idea what she was in for, but she knew she didn't want any part of it.

But the silver sequin-clad redhead drifted right past Kate and stepped up behind the empty chair next to her, leaning against it- for balance, no doubt. "Hey," the mousy voice said.

Kate turned her head but saw only the girl's bare back.

"Hey, yourself," Rick replied, seemingly delighted by his new company and by the drink that'd just been set before him.

"My friends and I were wondering something," the tipsy one continued.

"That's funny. I was wondering something too. I wonder if we were wondering the same thing." Pleased with his own wordplay, Rick swallowed down a sip of his cocktail. The girl stared at him like a confused puppy. "Tell me," he offered in aid.

"Are you-" She turned back to her friends who were flailing their arms wildly in _Go on!_ encouragement. "Are you that writer guy? Are you Richard Castle?"

Kate nearly spat out her whisky or her vermouth or both. She lifted her cocktail napkin to her mouth and dabbed it as she awaited the man's reply. He had a great voice too, like Josh, though she'd only heard it used to order alcohol and flirt with a bimbette thus far.

"I am he. You wondered correctly, you and your lovely sidekicks." The girl let out a small yelp of excitement, as though she'd just won a new blender on a gameshow. "So, you're a fan of men of mystery then, are you?"

Kate's pulse began to race when she heard the word _fan._

"When they look like you, I am."

Kate rolled her eyes and peered at the bartender to make sure he hadn't caught the childish gesture. Her secret was safe, his attention focused on a couple at the opposite end of the bar.

"Would you like to have a drink with us, Mr. Mystery?"

 _No. No. No_. Kate's brain screamed it over and over and over.

"That's a very tempting offer, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline. My date for the evening should be arriving-" He pulled up his sleeve and checked the time on his watch. "Well, she should be arriving now, actually."

Kate suddenly realized she'd forgotten she, too, had a date on the way. Her drink was obviously prepared too strong. Yes, it definitely must've been the drink.

"Your loss," said the redhead, pivoting on her pumps and floating back over towards her friends.

Rick watched every step as she walked away- her intention, of course. He pushed forward in his chair and leaned slightly toward Kate. "T.G.I. Friday's must be closed, huh?" He chuckled before taking another sip of his drink.

Kate chuckled too, finally appreciating that he was talking to her. Well, she would've chuckled if she hadn't fought so hard to swallow it down.

Richard Castle. At the bar. Next to her. What were the odds?


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

His scent lingered around her like morning fog on a moor, though he'd only leaned in for a matter of seconds. That wasn't to say she found it overbearing or off-putting, in fact quite the opposite. Kate relished in the tickle the soft spice of his skin left in its wake. It was one she vividly remembered, one she'd experienced on a long ago afternoon- a memory she'd since kept tucked away, wrapped pristinely in a bow, until tonight when the redhead two chairs over said his name and pulled the satin string loose. Richard Castle- someone so important to her past, someone suddenly so within reach in her present.

"Fans of yours, huh?" She wasn't even aware they were forming inside her. The words simply flew from her mouth like a round fired from her service weapon, swift and invasive.

"I'm- I'm sorry." Rick said, leaning back across the leather buffer between them. "Were you talking to _me_?"

Of course it was too much to ask that the ambient sounds of the lounge had drowned out her pointless and uninvited inquiry. "Oh, no, _I'm_ sorry. Please excuse me," she answered, her cheeks warm with the blush of embarrassment. "I didn't mean to bother you," she added, swallowing down nearly all that remained in her glass.

"You didn't bother me at all. I just wanted to make sure before I answered and potentially embarrassed myself. My family assures me I'm quite adept at that."

Kate finally turned her head in his direction, found his body closer than she expected. His proximate scent instantly set her memories off like fireworks. She'd find the book when she got home that night, she decided with a silent thrill, the one with the note in it, penned by him years before, just for her. "Is your family right?"

"Of course not, no." He laughed her off. "I'm absolutely perfect. No flaws to speak of." He smiled and she mirrored it right back. "But to answer your question, because you really didn't bother me at all, I think it's probably more likely they're fans of Page Six, not me. They're not exactly in my demo."

Kate shifted her attention briefly to the trio and then back again. "And what _demo_ is that?" Her tone was inexplicably playful. She caught herself entirely off guard.

"Well let's just say, because you're clearly a lady and I should, therefore, be a gentleman, that my devotees know how to order a real drink, and real drinks are never the color of cotton candy."

Kate looked down at the remnants in her glass and grinned inside. She knew what a real drink was. Her mother had loved manhattans, and her mother was the most real person she'd ever known.

"Kudos, by the way. I couldn't help but notice we share the same excellent taste in spirits." He extended his glass to provoke a toast and she obliged, with an audible clink.

"Guess that means I'd make an acceptable member of your fan club." As though she weren't already.

"Oh, you're absolutely, 100 percent acceptable." Rick took another sip to slow himself down. Here he was, waiting for a date- albeit one he didn't want- and shamelessly flirting with someone else at the bar.

"Well, thanks, I think." She reached out her hand. "I'm Kate, by the way, in case you need it for the newsletter mailings or something."

"Cute. Very cute." He took her hand in his and continued to squeeze it gently without release.

She looked at him quizzically.

"Not you. I didn't mean—not, not that you aren't cute. You are. More than cute, actually. I was-"

Her eyebrow crept up at an angle. "You sure you're him? The actual Richard Castle? The _writer_ of best-selling words and sentences?" She had no idea where all of this playfulness was coming from. But she felt more at ease with him by the second, while that long ago afternoon continued to flash across her mind- the soft rain, the fluorescent light of the bookstore, the tight, anticipatory grip of her fingers around the bend of his novel.

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" He couldn't help but chuckle. "A _smoooo_ th talker like me."

"Well, I used the word _huh_ earlier. Who am I to judge? I say we call it even."

"It's a deal." He still had her hand in his, he realized. To his surprise, she hadn't yet pulled away. "Please call me Rick. It's very nice to meet you, Kate."

That afternoon. The pristine bow. She'd already met him, but, for now, that would remain just for her.

"Crap!" He released her hand and pulled back his jacket from his wrist. "I'm meeting someone and she's supposed to-"

Kate fiddled with her clutch and slid out her phone.

"Would you excuse me? I'm sorry. I need to go and check-"

"No, of course, go ahead," she said with a sweep of her hand. "I'm sorry I kept you." A part of her didn't feel sorry at all. A big part of her. A bigger part than she cared to admit.

She watched him step quickly away until he disappeared around the corner and then she lit up her phone. Josh was fifteen minutes late and there was no message to speak of. She glanced over each shoulder to make sure she hadn't missed him, as though she were in the middle of some crowd of people. Hell, she didn't even know what he looked like. Maybe she was just hoping she'd see Rick walking back toward her. Maybe.

The bartender made his way down the counter and cleared away her empty glass. "May I offer you another?"

Kate looked once more at her phone. Still nothing. "Sure. Why not." She'd put on a dress and eye shadow, after all.

 **xxxx**

The blabbing bimbettes took off before Kate's second drink was set on the bar in front of her, and she wished there was someone next to her to toast the occasion. Six more minutes had passed without word from Josh, her phone now out of her purse and left within view. She thought briefly about texting Lanie but quickly realized she didn't really care all that much. Sure, she could be at the precinct working on her case against Rollins, but that would surely have frustrated her just the same. They still had nothing on him that was worth a damn to the DA. At least here some good had come- in the form of a charming, divinely-scented writer. She had to drink to that.

"Another of the same, if you would," Kate heard from just over her shoulder, the deep voice of its origin both familiar and titillating at once. "A beautiful woman should never drink alone," Rick spoke softly, his lips just beyond her ear.

Kate turned in surprise and found him standing behind the chair directly next to hers- no buffer this time. "I thought you- weren't you meeting someone?" Not that she was in any way disappointed in his return.

"May I?"

"Of course, please." She scolded herself for sounding too excited.

Rick sat as his drink was delivered. "Thanks. I, uh- hey, no more rambunctious fan section." He interrupted his own thought, basking in the peace of their absence.

"Aw, don't worry, the night's still young. I'm sure there will be more hair-color-from-a-box, Page Six readers along shortly," Kate teased with a smile.

"Feisty, I like that. But," he paused to sample his drink, "to be honest, as perfect men such as myself always are, I'm rather enjoying your company and wouldn't welcome the interruption."

Kate swallowed- hard. She reached gracelessly for her glass and sent her phone spinning. Rick trapped it under his hand and guided it slowly back toward her.

"I should've known," he said with a knowing nod of his head. "Of course you're waiting for someone too. How would a woman like you not be waiting for someone?" He pushed his chair back from the bar and stood. "I'm sorry, Kate. I didn't mean to-"

Before she knew it, her fingers were around his forearm. "No, it's fine, really. Please, sit." He didn't make a move either way. "Please." More than anything else she didn't want from this night, she didn't want him to go.

Rick took his seat once again and they locked eyes for a moment before either said anything. Somehow it didn't feel awkward to either of them.

"I was supposed to meet someone but it seems I've been stood up. We planned to meet here at 8PM. So much for fans, huh?"

Kate did her best to muster a sympathetic tone, but inside she felt as though she was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "I'm sorry, Rick. Hopefully everything's okay and you can reschedule, maybe."

"God, I hope not," he mumbled, though he'd done so more overtly than intended.

"You hope not?" Kate looked at him entirely confused.

"Oh, well, of course I hope she's okay. _Of course_. No, it's just that this was a blind date orchestrated by my cruel and vindictive ex-wife, and I would rather have spent the evening trapped in a sewer drain if I'd had the choice- which I didn't…and you're looking at me funny. What?"

"I'm not even sure where to begin with all of that. It sounds like it has the makings of a potential new sci-fi book, though. I mean, I know you're a mystery writer, but you should consider it."

Rick's entire face lit up like the brightest beam of morning sun. "Read some of my work, have you? That's kind of hot."

"Beginning to understand the whole _ex_ -wife thing."

"Sorry."

Kate wasn't. She found this entire interlude kind of hot.

"Well, in the interest of keeping things honest, I was supposed to meet a blind date here tonight as well, and though I was trying very hard to convince myself otherwise, I was dreading it a bit too." She reached for her drink and took a large sip that went down warm. "Guess we're quite a pair."

"I'll drink to that," he said, raising his glass to hers. "And may I add to my apologies for your unfortunate evening a selfish _yippee_ because I'm enjoying the hell out of your company."

There was that blush again, one she felt crawl all the way up from her toes to her cheeks. "I am too, actually."

" _Actually_? You sound surprised."

"I am surprised. Just, not in the way you think," she told him demurely.

Rick looked at her curiously but didn't press it further, and she wasn't ready to reveal anything more in the moment. She'd fought against this night, fought against the idea that happiness could find her where she'd been hiding for so long, but there she sat, nonetheless, next to the man who'd unknowingly helped to put some of her broken pieces back together long ago. Maybe she had Lanie to thank, maybe something bigger. Either way, as she glanced over and noticed the blue glow emanating from the phone beside her clutch, she grinned gently and let it fade away, unacknowledged.


End file.
